


how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

by radianceofthefuture



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Donuts, Enjolras & Jean Prouvaire Friendship, Fluff, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Romantic Gestures, Secret Admirer, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radianceofthefuture/pseuds/radianceofthefuture
Summary: Enjolras sighs as he leans down to pick up the bag. Peeking inside of it, his suspicions are proven correct; it’s a white cake donut, slightly smushed. All of the donuts have been different; this one has pastel pink icing and is topped with what appears to be shredded coconut. “I really don’t understand this, Jehan. Why the hell is somebody leaving me donuts?"“I don’t know, Enjolras,” Jehan answers. Enjolras gets the distinct impression that they are struggling not to roll their eyes at him, which he finds rude and uncalled-for. “Maybe someone’s trying to be nice to you.”“By leaving me donuts? That seems like an odd way to go about it.”“Have you considered,” Jehan says, in their I-am-trying-so-hard-to-be-patient-with-you voice, “That that might be the entire point? To get your attention?”“Why would they want to do that?”Jehan looks at him, then groans. “You know what? Never mind. I give up.”





	how sweet it is (to be loved by you)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, I know it's been literal months since I've written anything. I've been busy with college applications and all of that fuckery, so I haven't really had time to be active in fandom. This is just some pure silliness that I wrote in one sitting at two in the morning. It has had zero proofreading, so I apologise in advance if there are errors. I hope you get some enjoyment out of it.

Enjolras has no idea where the donuts are coming from.

It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate them. Enjolras may not have the biggest sweet tooth, but he can recognise a nice gesture when he sees one, and since he always hands the donuts off to one of his friends, it’s not as if it’s an issue of food waste. The problem isn’t the donuts themselves. The problem is how deeply, profoundly confusing it is that someone keeps leaving donuts on his doorstep.

\--

The eighth time it happens, it’s six o’clock on a Thursday evening, and Enjolras is deeply involved with a discussion with Jehan about the school-to-prison pipeline as he digs his room key out of his pocket. In fact, he’s so invested in the conversation that he doesn’t see the small paper bag on his doormat. He misses stepping on it by less than an inch.

“Hey, careful,” Jehan warns, gently pushing him back with one hand and gesturing towards the bag with the other. “It looks like you’ve gotten another one, and they don’t usually hold up too well when they get crushed.” Of the seven donuts Enjolras has already received, three have gone to Jehan, so they’ve gotten accustomed to this by now.

Enjolras sighs as he leans down to pick up the bag. Peeking inside of it, his suspicions are proven correct; it’s a white cake donut, slightly smushed. All of the donuts have been different; this one has pastel pink icing and is topped with what appears to be shredded coconut. “I really don’t understand this, Jehan. Why the hell is somebody leaving me donuts?”

“I don’t know, Enjolras,” Jehan answers. Enjolras gets the distinct impression that they are struggling not to roll their eyes at him, which he finds rude and uncalled-for. “Maybe someone’s trying to be nice to you.”

“By leaving me donuts? That seems like an odd way to go about it.”

“Have you considered,” Jehan says, in their I-am-trying-so-hard-to-be-patient-with-you voice, “That that might be the entire point? To get your attention?”

“Why would they want to do that?”

Jehan looks at him, then groans. “You know what? Never mind. I give up.”

Enjolras shrugs. “Fine. Hey, do you want this donut?”

“Do I – yes, of course I want the donut, who do you think I am?”

Jehan snatches the donut from his hand, then starts down the hallway towards their own dorm.

“Bye, Jehan,” Enjolras calls after them. They wave vaguely over their shoulder at him. Enjolras shakes his head. His friends can be so weird sometimes.

\--

The next morning, Enjolras has an early lecture, so he’s up at the crack of dawn trying to scrape himself into something resembling presentability. Incidentally, this also means that when the light footsteps advance down the hallway and come to a stop right outside his door, he is awake to hear them.

Quick as a shot, Enjolras springs to his feet and flings the door open. There’s a little squeak, and Enjolras barely has time to recognise Grantaire before he jumps back to avoid being flattened. He’s clutching a small paper bag in his hands.

“Grantaire?” Enjolras says, dumbfounded. “You’re the one who’s been leaving me donuts?”

“Oh, shit,” Grantaire blurts. “Oh, Christ. Enjolras. Fuck. I’m so sorry. Look, I promise I was going to tell you about it eventually. I had this whole fucking plan, but now it’s not gonna work, because now you know it’s me, and you probably think I’m a total fucking weirdo, and oh God, oh shit, I’m so sorry, I…”

He trails off with an audible gulp. Enjolras can see fear in those disarmingly liquid brown eyes.

“It’s okay, Grantaire, I’m not angry. I’m just confused.”

Grantaire’s shoulders seem to relax a little bit, but he still looks tense. “I thought it would be obvious. I’m leaving you donuts as a build up to my big, grand gesture.”

“Your what?”

“My big, grand gesture,” Grantaire says. His voice is very matter-of-fact in its tone, but he can’t quite seem to look Enjolras in the eye. “You know, the thing where I tell you about how I’ve been totally in love with you since the first time I heard you speak, you know, typical butterflies-and-buttercups shit, and then you’d hopefully tell me that you felt the same way and we’d live happily ever after, even though realistically you’d more likely think I was a freak and never want to speak to me again, which is probably how you’re feeling right now.”

Enjolras looks at Grantaire, taking in every detail. He sees the shock of dark hair, the disproportionate small stature and broad shoulders, the facial features mismatched as if they’d been thrown together in the dark, and those ridiculous, beautiful, heartbreaking eyes, and he isn’t quite sure what he’s feeling, but he doesn’t think the word “freak” is anywhere close to figuring into it.

“Butterflies and buttercups sound pretty good to me, actually,” Enjolras says.

Grantaire, caught clearly off-guard, looks up into Enjolras’ eyes, and Enjolras smiles at him.

“So, tell me more about this grand gesture.”

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike Enjolras, I fucking love donuts.  
> Kudos are encouraged. Comments are welcome as long as they are kind and/or constructive.  
> Title from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=beW9AH1Goxg) by Marvin Gaye.  
> [I'm on Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/radiance-of-the-future)


End file.
